


Just Desserts

by Reverie_Bluebell



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Fingerfucking, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Nipple Play, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4300953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reverie_Bluebell/pseuds/Reverie_Bluebell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We met at a masquerade, and I knew not who he was, nor how intimately involved we would become in such a short time...</p><p>An erotic tale of Howl and Ophelia, a shameless self-insert OC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

> In the novel, Howl is originally from Wales and speaks Welsh. I have used the word "cariad" in this piece, which is a Welsh term of endearment.

It was early in the morning when I saw Howl. Not for the first time, of course. That had been some weeks prior.  
He'd taken my hand and whisked me out onto the dance floor at a masquerade ball arranged by the Duke. I had no idea who was twirling with me around the floor to the music, staring down at me with a mask that resembled a crackling fire. I admit, it brought some heat to my cheeks, hidden as they were under my own mask.  
At midnight, when all faces were bared, I was shocked at who had been my partner through the night - the infamous, notorious wizard Howl. Every rumor and whisper painted him differently of course, ranging from the macabre to the merry, but I knew nothing of him other than that he was a dangerously powerful wizard.  
As I gazed into his eyes, and that roguish smile of his...I was smitten, all the more so when his lips caressed mine at the chiming of the hour. He'd left after, disappearing when he walked behind a column of stone, and I thought I'd never see him again. But a few days later he captured my hand at a luncheon, and I'd spent a good afternoon chasing him through the hedgemaze to recover my glove.  
Again and again, we'd run into one another--at parties, functions, and little get-togethers - and again, and again, he vexed and teased me, leaving me breathless with little kisses or whispered nothings. This was the first time I'd run into him outside of a social event, however. It was a bit odd to see him on the street, but my name on his lips had caught my ear.

"Ah, Ophelia! I was hoping I'd run into you today. "  
His eyes sparkled as he spoke, a grin spreading across his full lips. "Would you care to join me tonight? Dinner at my house? I've got something extra special lined up to mark the occasion."  
As if I could refuse. I had not been to his residence before. What sorts of magical paraphernalia could I expect at a wizard’s house?  
“Occasion? What occasion?” I asked.  
"Why, the first time you shared a kiss with me was only a month ago, my lady."  
My eyes blinked and widened. “Oh! Of course!” I said as my eyes glanced toward the ground, a pink blush spreading across my face as I remembered the first touch of his soft lips.  
My train of thought is broken when he laughs, “You’re so adorable when you blush, you know.”  
I can’t resist the smile spreading across my face as the blushing increases. “Dinner sounds wonderful, Howl. Thank you.”  
“Fantastic! I’ll see you tonight, then. Meet me at the plaza,” he kisses the back of my hand.

And so I did meet him at the Kingsbury city plaza that evening as the sun set over the mountains. His eyes danced when he saw me, and his smile radiant,  
“My, how stunning you are this evening…as usual.”  
My cheeks became warm once again, “I should say the same of you.”

* * *  
“So, I understand there is a special surprise awaiting me?” I prompt.  
He laughs, “Hasty, are we? We haven’t even gotten to dessert yet.”  
His cheeky grin gives me the impression that the last part of that sentence has some hidden meaning or double entendre that I'm missing. I tilt my head inquisitively as I try to figure it out.

“Dessert, you say? What sort of dessert?”  
"Well..." He flashes a grin as he pulls a flask from a cabinet. He works a corkscrew into one end until the cork pops out. "First, I propose a toast. This is a potion I've been working on for just this occasion."  
He tips the flask into a crystal glass, filling it with a syrupy liquid, and offers me the glass before pouring another for himself. I held the clear crystal decanter up to my eye, peering into the warm amber liquid curiously.  
"What sort of potion is this?" I ask, a smile tugging at my lips as I glance from the liquid to the wizard, and back again. It smells positively delectable, honey sweet to the nose--almost as sweet as the honeyed words Howl had been gifting me throughout dinner. Only a fool drinks what a wizard gives them without knowing what it is...unless you trust the wizard. 

I lick my lips and tilt my hand, taking a sip of the potion. It plays wonderfully on my tongue, tasting much as it smelled—chocolate, caramel, and banana sensuously sliding across my taste buds, with a hint orange blossom honey teasing along at the edge of my sense of taste.  
“Oh, Howl, this is decadent!” I take another sip, taking care not to drink it too quickly. I wanted to savor it for as long as possible. “Banana and chocolate is my favorite combination, how did you know? –Ooh!”  
In my excitement, a drop of the potion spilled over the rim, slowly making its way down the crystal. I gaze at it, pondering it for a moment. This could be an opportunity for me to tease Howl a bit, rather than the other way around. I glance in his direction to make sure he’s watching, and of course, he is. I hold his gaze and give him a sultry expression. The tip of my tongue catches the dripping potion, and carefully, ever so slowly, licks up the rest of it from the side of the crystal.  
A sly grin spreads across his countenance.  
“You naughty little minx,” he muses and sips from his own glass.  
I cannot help but giggle as a blush blossoms upon my face.

“This potion will enhance your sense of touch. The silk of my vest, for instance…” he takes my hand, and it tingles with the delicate play of his fingers along my wrist and the back of my palm. My fingers graze his lips as he nibbles my fingertips, eliciting a pleasured, shuddering breath out of me. He then trails my hand along his neck and collarbone, and finally presses my palm to his vest of cyan and silver.  
Never had I felt something so luxuriously soft…it was almost like combing my fingers through water. I never imagined I could derive so much delight from running my hands over fabric. I could have caressed my hands all over it forever. I was all but lost in the sensation until Howl touched my cheek to brush my hair back and tuck it behind my ear,  
“…will feel softer and smoother than ever before.”  
With his hand still behind my ear, he pulls my face to his, joining our lips.  
He was always a skilled kisser, but all of his previous kisses paled in comparison to this one. My lips were now more sensitive, more receptive to touch. The soft, warm moisture of his lips was enrapturing.  
I voice a little whine in protest when he parts his lips from mine.  
“Might I suggest finishing the potion before we proceed?” he reminds me.  
“Oh! Right…” perhaps drinking more of the potion would further increase these sensations. That was certainly welcome.

“So…what do I need a potion like this for?” I ask, my voice hushed and dazed. I had an inkling of what his answer would be, but I wanted to hear him say it. I abandon the plan of savoring the potion for as long as possible. Now, it was only Howl and his touch that I desired to revel in.  
“For dessert,” he says, finishing his own glass, “I thought I would pleasure my lovely lady beyond her wildest fantasies, if she so desires.”  
I do not know whether it was due to his words or the potion – likely a combination of both – that led a pleasant tingling sensation to overcome the intimacy between my thighs. My undergarments began to seem like more of a cage than functional articles of clothing.  
“Are we to dine in the bedroom, then?” I look up into his eyes, a coy smile on my face.  
He smirks, “A wonderful suggestion, my lady.”

He takes my hand, walking me towards the staircase. I can't help but be reminded of our last dance at the royal masquerade. Hand in hand, approaching the dance floor just as this--my mind slips into daydream as the potion works its magic. The silken sensation of his hand in mine, thoughts of the dance, draw my mind to mental images of a more...intimate form of dance as we approach the staircase and begin our ascent.  
“-Aah!” my stomach leaps into my throat as I’ve lost my footing. Stumbling forward, I nearly kiss the cyan vest before he catches me in his arms.  
“Are you quite alright?” he gets me back on my feet to face him.  
I barely notice he said anything, finding myself gazing into his mesmerizing beryl-green eyes. My gaze travels to his lips, and I press my own to them with fervor. For a minute he complies and presses my back against the wall, kissing me aggressively and stifling my moans. The pleasure is cut short, however. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip before he ceases.  
“Already starting your dessert before getting to the dining hall…how rude,” he pouts.  
He glances to a doorway to his right, “Be patient now…it’s only a few more steps.”  
With that, he stoops down and lifts me off my feet and carries me through the doorway. I do not have much time to look around the room before he gently sits me down at the foot of the bed. He eyes me hungrily, and with a lick of the lips he murmurs,  
“Delectable.”

He wastes no more time, and pulls me into a passionate kiss. I could not imagine a more rapturous kiss if not for the potion’s effects. His tongue shoves through my lips, overwhelming my senses with the smooth, warm, wet invasion. His body leans into mine, deepening the kiss until I’m horizontal on the bed. One hand strokes the length of my waist while the other hand pins my wrist, as a passionate epilogue to the evening when we danced at the masquerade. I moan into his mouth as our tongues continue to glide and swirl together in a tango. Our lips eventually part, both of us panting heavily.  
Bending on one knee, he takes my ankle into his hands and with expert care, slips off my boot. Hands slide up the length of my shin and to my thigh, stopping at the end of my garter. His lips press to my knee as, slowly, he slips my leg free of its sheathe. He lifts my ankle again, apparently inspecting it.  
“What are you gawking at?” I laugh.  
He tuts, “Exposing your ankles to a gentleman. Really Ophelia, I’m surprised at you.”  
He repeats the procedure for the other leg, ending with a chaste kiss on the top of the foot. In a single swoop he removes my petticoat and bloomers, tossing them carelessly aside.  
His fingers fiddle with the lacing of my dress while his soft lips dot the side of my neck. Soft moans escape me in response to the delightful tingles and shivers his kisses bring. Hands trail down my back, slipping down to cup my rear for a brief squeeze, before stopping at the skirt of my dress. As he pulls it up I feel his hands glide along my hips, up the waist and ribs before I lift my arms above me so that he may pull it over my head, leaving only the corset.  
"Turn around." his voice is quiet, but it is not soft. The steel hidden in his velvet words tells me it is not a request. A thrill slides down my spine as I obey, the hairs on my neck standing on end as I turn and bend slightly, offering the laces of my corset to him.  
A hand lifts my chin. Hot breath tickles my skin as he proceeds to kiss along my jaw and the back of my neck and shoulder. With the other hand he makes quick, skillful work of unlacing my corset. I hear a light thump as he takes it and drops it off the end of the bed. With a kiss on the shoulder and a chaste squeeze of my breasts, he backs away from me and steps off the bed. I turn my naked body to face him as he stands at the end of the mattress.

He flashes a smirk as he unties the silver silk ascot from his neck and tosses it into the air. Before it can reach the ground, it splits into four parts. My mouth gapes open, and my amazement distracts me from the fact that the strips of silk are darting in my direction. One of them wraps around my wrists smooth and swift, forcing my arms upward and behind me. My body drags across the sheets as the silk proceeds to pull me toward the head of the bed, where it binds me. The other two pieces wrap around my ankles before pulling them toward the bed posts on either side of the mattress.  
Bewildered, I turn my head this way and that way, trying to make sense of what just happened.  
“Wha-what is all this!?” I manage to sputter.  
I turn my head in his direction to see him unbuttoning his shirt, the cyan vest already a pile on the floor. With every button unfastened I see another inch of his skin. I bite my lip, anxious to see more. After the very last button, he opens his shirt dramatically with both hands. I am reminded of the parting of curtains in a theatre. The shirt drops to the floor like a useless rag and reveals toned, slender, taut muscles sliding under his skin. The shadows and light of the room play upon his torso in such a way that it emphasizes the muscles. His form is at once strong and graceful. A single word comes to my mind: gorgeous. I had never seen such a splendid example of masculine beauty.  
Apparently neither had he, for he stood and preened like a peacock.

I can barely catch my breath before he gives a sweet kiss on the lips, a chaste kiss on the neck, and rakes his fingernails gently along my sensitive shins. I cannot help but mewl and writhe as delightful tingles and shivers are sent along my legs and spine.  
"Really now...you'd hardly expect me to prepare a dessert without the proper…presentation, would you?" he eyes me from head to toe as he says this, a sinful look gleaming in his eyes.  
“So then, are you going to smother me with whipped cream?” I tease.  
He seems amused by this retort. “Heh…not a bad idea, I must admit,” he answers, “but I have something else in mind.”  
The final strip of silk winds around my head and over my eyes, becoming a blindfold.  
Slender fingertips ever so gently and as delicately as feathers, caress my ankles and the tops of my feet. My toes curl in response and, unable to freely move my feet, all I can do is whimper in pleasure as my legs tense.  
“You’ll be good while I go prepare something, won’t you, cariad?” he says softly next to my ear before his hand cradles my cheek and jaw. He nibbles my ear lobe, electrifying the nerves down my neck. I groan in response, and his hand slips away.  
I hear his footsteps move toward where the doorway is. He pauses to say,  
“I won’t be more than a few minutes. And do not worry. If something were to trouble you within those few minutes, I would surely hear you screaming my name.”  
The sound of his footsteps continues down the stairs.  
Cheeky bastard. 

My heart was pounding like a drum. Though the anticipation of what Howl had in store for me was no doubt arousing, it was nonetheless disorienting being helpless and unable to see anything. Anxiety was steadily creeping into me with every second of his absence.  
"Howl?" My voice wavers more than I wanted it to. It's dark, and I feel so exposed, tied to his bed with my legs spread out, revealing my intimate flesh like a flower in bloom. The silence allowed me to meditate upon the fact that I was now completely at his mercy.  
A soft puff of warm air against my bared nipple and an intoxicating fragrance of lavender, musk, and earl gray is the first sign that he's returned, eliciting a surprised little noise from me. I can almost hear his smug smile as I squirm slightly.  
"Howl, what are you do-“ I’m cut off by a sudden icy sting as a drip of freezing cold water coats the nipple that was still warm from his breath.  
My entire body tenses as I gasp, barely able to breathe, “Ah-ah! Cold, cold, cold!”  
I hate being cold.  
His breath caresses my throat as he chuckles wickedly.  
“My apologies, miss,” he plants a delicate kiss just below the ear. “Would you prefer something…warmer?”  
I feel another sting – a hot one this time. My breath hitches. I hiss between clenched teeth as hot liquid trickles along my right breast, just brushing past the nipple. The edge of the heat melts away to become a pleasant warmth. My muscles relax a bit, and a sigh of relief escapes me. The warm fluid begins to solidify. Candle wax.  
“Better?” he whispers into my ear.  
“Oh, yes,” I break into a smile.  
“Excellent…” he smirks.  
I feel his lips press soft kisses to my exposed abdomen, dancing around the navel and along my hip bones. I soon lose track of where his lips are. He clearly intends to keep me guessing as to where I next feel his touch.  
Another few drops of icy liquid sting just below my sternum, and I make a sound somewhere between a gasp and a shriek.  
“You devil!” I scold, half frustrated, half attempting to be playful.  
“Forgive me,” he stifles a laugh, “it’s just so much fun to see you squirming and moaning.”  
A few drops of the hot wax drip onto the still-cold area, as if to apologize for my discomfort. The contrast of the heat against the cold is exquisite.  
I feel teeth nipping lightly on my hip bone, followed by the wet warmth of a tongue massaging what was just bitten. My back arches as the other hip receives a few drops of wax, the liquid threatening to flow to my nether, but hardening just in time. The wax continues to dribble around my navel, in the same places I recall his lips touching. As the heat soothes my body and mind, I cannot help but sigh contentedly.  
Of course, my torturer seems to know just when I’m getting too comfortable. Freezing water drips on the side of my neck, my body bracing, my skull jolting toward the affected side. Lips press firmly against the other exposed side of the neck, his tongue forming small circles and driving the sensitive nerves crazy. Whimpers escape my lips as he nibbles from my jaw, all the way down to my collarbone. Yet more drops of the searing wax dance across the collarbone causing me to groan through clenched jaws. 

My breathing becomes heavy. Between the ice water and the hot wax, and his sensuous kisses, bites, and licks, I am nearly driven to sensory overload.  
Yet another sensation is introduced. Light, delicate, fluttering, and downy – the touch of a feather. The feather trails slowly from my throat, between my breasts, and pauses just below the navel. From there it relocates, fluttering along my hip bones. My lips spread into a smile. The softness of the plume is relieving after the harsher sensations of cold and heat. The feather runs its way back up and begins a slow, tantalizing figure eight around my breasts. With each turn, the feather brushes closer and closer to the nipples. I attempt to shift my body so that the feather might meet them, but it is all for naught, for the feather draws away just in time. Such exquisite teasing – infuriating and yet so delicious.

By now my nipples are tense and hard, yearning to be touched. They ache with a need to be pinched, licked, rubbed, perhaps even twisted. As if reading my mind, he firmly brushes a thumb over the left nipple. I gasp softly as the touch elicits a pleasured tremble.  
He chuckles again, “Somebody is excited.”  
A hand fondles the right side of my waist, trailing up my ribcage, and then cupping my breast. His hands are so soft against my skin…I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed before. I imagine he pampers them with moisturizers.  
“Such lovely little nipples you have,” he purrs, sweeping and circling the feather over the nipple of the other breast, “Dainty and pink, like rosebuds.”  
His flaxen locks drape across my skin as his lips press against my breast, enclosing the nipple into his warm, inviting mouth. My hips squirm frantically, accompanied by soft moans and gasps, limbs resisting the restraints as his tongue swirls and flicks, and his lips suckle the delicate bud. My clit throbs with every flick of his tongue. The tips of his talented fingers rub the other one in a circular motion, electrifying the sensitive nerves to my core. He then pinches it, gently pulling and releasing before claiming it again. This time, he twists it just enough to strike the fragile balance between pain and pleasure.  
“Ah…yes…” I breathe.  
I then feel the silky plume of the feather sweeping along my inner thighs… How is this possible? If that hand is supporting his weight, and the other hand is…ooh…yes, keep doing that…then how…mmm…the feather…? The feather must be enchanted! It moves inward, and begins stroking the intimate flesh between my thighs. The effects of the potion have retained their potency, for the tingles do not only arise from where the feather touches. Nerves are electrified all through my pelvis, as lightning illuminates all of the sky in a storm. I cannot contain my moaning.  
I have become so immersed in the ecstasy that my body jolts in surprise when the feather brushes along the delicate pearl crowning my sex. The feather circles that most sensitive bud ever so slowly and delicately, firing the nerves of my core and leaving me in a whining, writhing mess.

"God, Howl. I'm so fucking wet." I gasp, breathless.  
The feather ceases its torturous strokes. My desperation feels almost tangible, like he could reach out and touch it...stroke it. What little breath I've managed to gather is lost in a groan of tortured pleasure as he finds my desperation, oh so tangible - hot, slick, and wet. The bastard teases me further, nimble fingertips gliding around my entrance despite my gasping and my twitching hips begging for more. It is a relief and yet a prolonging of the torture when one of those slender digits slides between my netherlips, bringing a soundless cry from my lips. A second finger joins, stroking into my depths. I can definitely hear the fucker’s smug smile now as he croons,  
"Mmm. Indeed you are. And what do you propose I do about that?"  
I want to tear into him and make him give me the pleasure my body demands, but all I can bring about is a whimpering, mewling, "P-please..."  
He responds with a low, knowing chuckle and plunges his fingers deeper within before drawing them back with torturous slowness from my quivering sex, and then slams into me again.  
“Oh…fuck,” I blissfully sigh as I become aware of the thin film of sweat forming on my bosom.  
His fingers slide into me again, his thumb pressing firmly against my clit, tortuously teasing in a steady rhythm. A fraction of an inch in, slipping out slowly, before gently gliding back in. If I wasn't tied down, my hips would have been bucking against his hand. A low keening escapes my throat, my need evident from how slick and hot I am, wrapping around his nimble fingers. I can practically feel the smirk as he leans in, breath hot against my ear - saying nothing, simply letting his exhalations play against my sensitive flesh.  
Oh, how sensitive...and it’s nothing, nothing at all to the sensation that abruptly washes over me. He's stopped playing, and his fingers have found my core. Lightly they circle it, never quite touching, and this, this is true torture. I could almost cry--and then I do cry out. A keening moan escapes against my better will as two slender digits stroke, ever so gently, against the core of my very being, the most sensitive portion of my already over stimulated sex. They slide out, and I want to weep for the loss of pleasure - but before I can, they are back. Three fingers this time. Slowly, so slowly, they press tight against the spot of pleasure, steadily massaging and pressing more and more firmly against the bundle of nerves, the internal counterpart to the clitoris he had already spent so long tormenting. Surely, I must be dripping by now.  
“H…Howl…” my ability to speak has been reduced to babbling, “P-Please…I want you…”  
If he were to continue to tease me for much longer, I swore I would find a way to tear myself from these blasted restraints and take him myself. I wanted nothing more than for him to ravage me like an animal, to claim me, and make me his whore.  
The silver cloth over my eyes slips away. The first image bestowed upon me is that of Howl’s eyes roaming my naked, sweating body. The fire glinting in his eyes was hungry, almost predatory. My eyes glance lower, where there is an obvious bulge in his trousers. He slides up onto his knees, perched between my spread open legs. His nimble fingers play at his belt, slowly undoing it, before popping the button holding his trousers closed, open. His hips shift and move as he slides the trousers down, slowly revealing himself to me. Falling forward, he catches himself on either hand and crawls forward, catlike, kicking the trousers away as he does.

With a mischievous grin, he grips his engorged arousal.  
“Have at me, then,” he beckons with a wicked grin, and strokes his length - a cruel tease, as I am still bound. I could only imagine myself sliding up and down the length of his cock, rather than his hand.  
Just then, the bindings around my feet go limp, releasing my feet and leaving my legs free to move. My wrists are released from the silver fabric as well, a brief sigh of relief escaping me as my hands touch the sweat-dampened sheets of the bed.

He was on top of me. The gentile, witty conversationalist was gone, and in his place was a man who was driving me insane with pleasure. His lips against my neck, teeth nipping me over and over as his hands held mine down to the bed. My breath was tight, quick pants as he pressed against me - never entering my soaked sex, simply pressing his hard arousal against it, sliding along my clit. I wanted him. I needed him to stop teasing.  
"Howl, please..." I whispered, voice ragged.  
He leaned up, and growled, low and dark in my ear, "Beg me...." before his teeth caught my earlobe. My eyes fluttered as I felt myself building once again, but I knew he wouldn't let me finish unless I did as he commanded.  
"Please...Howl, please. Please, I need it. " I rasped.  
"Need what, little minx?" that deep voice growled, fist tugging a handful of hair.  
"I...I..." I gasped as he bit down harder on my neck, hard enough to leave a mark.  
"Fuck me! I need you to fuck me! Howl, stop teasing, please, please, I need it so badly, please fuck me!" I cried out.  
He stopped. A low, dark chuckle escaped him, and I felt him shift. I had no warning before his lips caught mine in a surprisingly gentle kiss. He leaned back, the tip of his cock pressing lightly, teasingly, against my entrance.  
"Good girl." He whispered in my ear, before his hips lunged, and he sheathed himself in my quivering slit.

His breath was no longer the cool, collected ease it had been before. Animal pants escaped him as his hips slammed into me, over and over. My hips rose to meet his with each thrust of his thick length into my aching sex, cries of passion all I can articulate as he fills me again and again. Our sweat slicks and mingles on our bodies as he fucks me as I'd begged him. The scent of him, of his raw musk, is all I can make out in the cacophony of sensations surrounding us. I think it can get no better, that any more pleasure will shatter me, but then his lips find mine, silencing my cries even as he builds me further and further towards bliss.  
My reverie, my climb towards heaven is interrupted as he breaks the kiss and stills his loins. With a low, rasping chuckle, he says,  
"Ahh..here I am, doing all the work. I think it’s time you earn your keep, cariad..." He leans back abruptly, keeping a tight hold of me. I want to cry out as he slips free, leaving me feeling horridly empty, and I find our positions reverse. I stare down at him, his hands on my hips as he lightly rocks his own, maddeningly teasing me with his length that shone with my wetness.

I yearn to feel him plunging into my depths again, but...a wicked thought strikes me, and I begin to gyrate my hips. I glance down my wax-speckled breasts and grin at him, my hands running over his firm chest, caressing the toned muscles under his skin as I rub my slickness back and forth along his rigid shaft. His startled glance was proof that he'd figured out my little scheme, and the dark smolder in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. He grabbed my hips, urging me on, before he pushed upward, and slid himself into me again. I let out a satisfied, almost guttural groan as I felt him within my hot flesh once more. I heard a small noise in his voice as he entered me, and his hips bucked abruptly. Clearly, he wanted me as much as I did him. Now, it was my turn to set the pace.

It was different. When I was below, I'd been surrounded by his scent. Now, I caught it in faint wafts as my hips bounced atop his, straddling his groin as I rode him like a prize stallion. My weight on my knees, leaning forward to grasp his chest as his hands gripped tight to my ass, urging me to continue. My moans sang in a staccato rhythm, synchronized with his thrusts. The sight of him losing his composure, of some of that animalistic lust I'd seen before breaking free again, was almost enough to send me over the edge. The potion’s effects were full at work, and I was afire with sensation. Even the trickle of sweat down my spine was the kind of glory I'd remember for ages after.

Without warning, Howl sat up. A hand threaded through the hair at the back of my head and tightened as he leaned in, kissing me fiercely.  
"That, I think, is enough playing..." He murmured, voice a deep, dark rasp. Never letting go of my hair, he leaned down, kissing the hollow of my neck as his free hand followed the curve of my rear and lingered on the small of my back, causing me to shift my hips in pleasure. I could feel him twitching inside of me, and I whimpered…I was so close.  
His cheek brushes mine, his voice husky as I feel his hot breath on my ear. "When I let go, I want you to turn around. You will get on your knees and bend over for me, then grab the headboard." His teeth nipped at the skin where neck meets shoulder as I sounded a gasp of assent.  
He releases his grip, and I do as he has commanded. My hands firmly grasp the smooth wooden headboard, and I spread my legs and present myself to him, my drenched sex eagerly awaiting his attention.  
“That’s my girl,” he growls with approval as his soft yet firm hands caress my ass and trace my spine, and back to grip my hips firmly. My mouth falls open in a lust filled gasp, breath already set to panting. Is he going to make me beg for my pleasure once more?  
I let out a moan of pleasured surprise as he enters me completely, without the preliminary teasing that I had come to expect from him. He is done playing. He is going to fuck me senseless.

With the potion’s effects, I can feel the entirety of his rigid member inside of me as he pushes into me deeper than before, his thighs crushing against mine. Strong, steady, firm thrusts, rutting into me like a beast in heat. His hands, digging into my skin, pull my hips to him with each thrust so that he may fill me as deeply as he can.  
The muscles in my arm begin to burn from bracing the impact of his unrelenting thrusts. I cannot bear to keep my grip on the headboard any longer, and allow my arms to let go and meet the sheets. For a few moments, my fingers curl into the fabric covering the bed as I scream my pleasure into the thick blankets that were now twisted and churned. I make no protest as I feel him take both of my hands behind me, a single hand keeping a firm grip on my wrists. Never losing his rhythm, he sweeps the back of my neck with the other hand before grasping my hair in his fist. The twinge of pain as he tugs my hair, the feeling of once again having my wrists bound and being at his mercy, the sheer pleasure of his pounding into me, his feral moans and grunts…it is too much. I’m driven over the edge, and I cry out, accompanied by the slap of flesh against flesh. The space below my navel begins to coil within once more, as if to beg for sweet release.  
He releases my wrists and gropes one of my breasts as if clinging on for dear life. His thrusts become shorter, but deeper and more concentrated – focused on my utmost pleasure. His chest, damp with sweat, presses against my back as he leans over, heated breath rough with bass, his hair tickling my neck. I can feel my inner walls as they begin to contract, pulsating around his engorged cock.  
“That’s it, my naughty little minx…come for me.”  
My body tenses. My breath becomes shallow, and then still. My jaw gapes open…and I come. Hard. The orgasm ruptures through my entire being, firing every nerve in my body as bestial wails resonate into the night. With my hair he turns my head to face him. His lips crash into mine, our tongues in a passionate wrestle, frantic and hungry for every last ounce of orgasmic bliss. In a concupiscent duet, we moan uncontrollably into each other. He releases, and my inner muscles clench, taking all of him.

His thrusts slow to a stop, pausing to revel in my tightness before sliding out of me, both of us panting and thoroughly fucked. I turn myself to look at him.  
“Well,” I gasp, smiling as I admire the gleaming in his eyes, “…is that why they call you Howl?”  
He chuckles, giddy in the afterglow, “Perhaps.”  
We kiss, this time delicate and gentle.  
“You truly are a wizard,” I sigh in bliss, sinking into his arms, cheek against his chest as I fall into a slumber.


End file.
